Big V
by Surtr1994
Summary: What if Mission didn't team up with Zaalbar before meeting Revan and Carth? What if, instead, she was saved by a certain white-haired half-demon?
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

"Hey, leave him alone, you core-slimes!"

The voice echoed along the streets and alleyways of the Lower City of Taris. Young, and usually ignored, the Twi'lek girl was brought up short as suddenly she was the centre of attention. A gang of Vulkars stared at her, some with avarice in their eyes, some with wrath, and one with lust. However, the most striking eyes were those of the wookiee in the middle of the group. His eyes were pleading, seeming to say 'Help me', even without any noticeable human expressions. Any further remarks died in her throat as she actually counted the number of Black Vulkars whose whole and undivided attention she now had.

 _Seven, eight, nine… nine Vulkars. Maybe I should just go…_

The blue-skinned girl began to slowly back away, before bumping into what felt like a very sturdy wall. Suddenly, she was on the floor, with a human pinning her down; his grip, a vice against her wrists and neck.

 _Okay… ten Vulkars. This was not my best idea…_

"What's the hurry, little Twi'lek? Not gonna finish what you were saying? Now I know you weren't trying to interfere with the Black Vulkars, right?"

The girl struggled fiercely, but the man atop her may as well have been that rancor in the sewers for how much chance she had of breaking free. She knew this wasn't going to end well for her if she didn't get away, so she did the only thing she could think of. The spittle hit the human in the eye, and as he flinched away, she managed to wrench her wrists out of his hands and bolted down the hallway.

Unfortunately, she didn't make it far enough to escape the man's reach before he recovered. His meaty fist closed around her ankle, and she tripped and landed hard on the ground.

"You little bitch!"

The man flipped her over and raised a fist to strike the girl. Before he could, however, the wookiee they had been harassing let out a roar that seemed to shake the very streets for its volume. Before the man could fully turn around, the furry giant slammed into him, bearing him to the ground and striking his head against the cold duracrete. Again and again, his head was slammed into the floor, until his head split open and the ground was stained red. That was when the first bolt struck the wookiee in the back. The twi'lek's screams of fear and despair mingled with the wookiee's roar of pain and rage, and the girl scuttled back as far as she could, hiding in a corner behind the firing circle, hoping that they would forget about her once they were done with this.

The other Vulkars hadn't been sitting idle while this happened. When the wookiee broke free of the two men that had been holding him, the rest had hesitated for only a moment before pulling out their blasters. After all, an enraged wookiee was not a creature to be trifled with. As the wookiee had been focusing his full attention on the man who had grabbed the twi'lek, the Vulkars had been surrounding the trio. When the human's skull had finally failed against the onslaught, the first Vulkar fired; a lance of superheated gasses contained within a magnetic field erupting from the barrel of his blaster pistol and striking the wookiee in the back of his shoulder, singing his fur and cooking his flesh.

Wookiees are renowned for four things. The first thing is their height; you will never see a wookiee shorter than seven feet. The second is their relative isolationism; they are very rarely seen outside of Kashyyyk, their homeworld. The third is their sense of loyalty; they will even go so far as to swear a life-debt to those whom have saved them from death or worse, binding themselves to said person until death. Fourth, and most importantly, is their incredible durability and strength; even enough to shrug off multiple blaster bolts.

Unfortunately, none of this, even their natural durability, allowed this wookiee to survive the veritable firestorm that was unleashed upon him. Blaster bolts in the dozens struck the wookiee again and again, cooking muscle and organs alike. Even when the wookiee could barely stand, the rain of plasma continued. It only abated when he finally collapsed, smoking and unconscious. There was a tense moment of hesitation, as the Vulkars and the twi'lek alike watched the wookiee for movement, though for vastly different reasons. Finally, the Vulkar closest to the twi'lek girl turned to her, holstering his blaster.

"Well, I hope you're happy, little girl. You managed to cost us our prize, and our toughest bruiser besides. Rake wasn't the smartest or most pleasant of us, but he was damn good at what he did." The man kneeled next to the sitting girl and looked her dead in the eyes. "Now, how do you plan to make this up to us?" After a moment's silence, the man spoke again. "If you don't have a plan… I'm sure there's someone out there who would like a twi'lek serving girl…"

 _Oh Force, please no…_

"Oi! What are you doing, mate? This is Vulkar territory, so you'd best be moving along!"

The crouching man turned at this, and saw a human kneeling in the exact centre of the circle of Vulkars. His most noticeable feature was the white hair, styled in spikes. He wore a blue coat over a black vest, which was lined with bulges that suggested armour plates concealed underneath. He paid no attention to the Vulkar that had shouted at him, instead taking something from the corpse of the wookiee, before closing the corpse's eyes and bowing his head for a moment, almost as if in prayer. A brief moment passed, before his voice rang out, cold as a vibroknife and twice as sharp.

"Which one of you killed my colleague here?"

The silence seemed to stretch for an eternity, even the ambient noise of the Lower City was drowned in the quiet malice inherent in the newcomer's question. Finally, the man who was next to the girl stood and looked the newcomer in the eye. As brown eyes locked with ice-blue, the man nearly flinched at what he found there.

 _Such rage… Not hot, but cold, contained… Even so, this man can't hope to kill us all._

Still, he drew a vibrosword from its sheathe on his back, and pointed it at the white-haired man in the middle. "We are the Black Vulkars, and this is a Vulkar matter. I suggest you leave before you end up like your friend,"

In response to this, eight blasters raised to point at the man in the middle of the circle. Even surrounded as he was, the man seemed the very epitome of calm. Calmly, with the grace of a predator stalking his prey, the white-haired man stood. He slipped what he took from the wookiee into a pocket in his coat, and gripped the hilt of the sword that was sheathed at his side.

"I take that to mean that all of you had a share in it. Very well,"

The sword came out, curved and single-edged, sharper than a razor; and in the blink of an eye, he was behind one of the Vulkars. The Vulkar's blaster hit the floor, along with his hand. He stared blankly at his stump for a moment, before opening his mouth to scream. However, no sound came out from his mouth; instead, his head dropped from his shoulders and rolled across the room, stopping at the feet of the twi'lek girl, who had at this point squeezed into a nook in the wall in an effort to be ignored and forgotten.

It was at this point that the rest of the Vulkars realised something very important.

 _We didn't even see him arrive… He was just_ there _one moment…_

"Shit, he's a Jedi!"

"Shoot him! Shoot him, damn you!"

They all turned to where the man was, only he wasn't there anymore… and three more Vulkars fell to pieces, blood spraying everywhere like a morbid fountain. The two Vulkars on the other side of the circle from him fired at him, only for him to weave between the deadly bolts with the ease of a born warrior; all the while getting closer and closer to the two firing men. When they were sure he couldn't dodge any more, he vanished. The top of one's head was flung from the force of the blow, spraying blood, grey matter, and eye fluids as it flew. The other one dropped his blaster with suddenly nerveless fingers. He looked at his hand in confusion; he had never fumbled his blaster since he first fired one. His eyes widened as first his hand, then his arm split down the middle, blood seeping from a wound running completely through the hand and up the arm to the elbow, before the same happened to his head and body.

The leader charged the man, vibrosword held in both hands as he swung with all his might. The deadly vibrating blade was intercepted and deflected almost casually. He swung again, and again, and again; only to be met with the curved steel every single time. Finally appearing to tire of this game, the white-haired man swung back, almost casually. The Vulkar leader easily caught the blade on his vibrosword… only for the curved steel to cut through it like so much flimsiplast.

 _Impossible! That blade was forged from cortosis… There's no way something as mundane as a sword cou-_

His final thought was interrupted by the backswing of the curved blade as it passed through his head, literally severing the very neurons that had been firing at the time to form the thought. Blood spurted from his head as he died, and slumped next to his sheared blade.

The remaining two Vulkars had a natural reaction to all this slaughter, as they had a sizeable sense of self-preservation. They dropped their blasters, turned, and ran for their lives. The white-haired man turned and swung his sword at the two.

Time seemed to stop for a moment; the fleeing Vulkars, the tears of fear rolling down the girl's face, even the speeders above seemed to pause for a moment. The man flicked his sword; the blood flying off, leaving the blade as clean as if it had never tasted blood; before sliding it ever so slowly back into its sheathe. Before he fully sheathed it, he paused for a moment, in anticipation. As he slid it that final inch, the world resumed, and the two fleeing Vulkars fell, blood spraying from wounds that seemed to just appear on them.

 _Oh Force, oh Force, oh Force… Please don't let him see me, please don't let him see m-_

The girl's thoughts were interrupted as the man walked right up to her hiding spot and stopped.

"They're all dead now. If you don't want to join them when their buddies find this mess, I'd suggest you leave before too long."

The sound of footsteps reached the girl's ears, and the tension seemed to drain out of her as she finally realised that she wasn't going to die. Nobody was going to kill her, and her one ticket to not being killed when they found out she was here was leaving. At that nasty thought, she scrambled out of her hiding spot and ran to catch up to the strange white-haired man. As she caught sight of him, she yelled to get his attention.

"Hey!"

The man spun and the girl found herself with that curved blade in her face. She stopped in time to avoid being skewered, but refused to flinch back from it. She looked the man in his ice blue eyes, and a long moment passed before anything happened. She finally spoke, her voice steady and unafraid.

"I want to come with you."

The man quirked an eyebrow at the sureness in the girl's voice, giving her a once-over before speaking a single word – a single syllable.

"Why?"

More silence, as the girl thought over her response.

 _I have nowhere else to go now that Griff's gone… and I need to learn how to fight if I'm going to survive. Not to mention he saved me… but mainly…_

"Because I owe you my life. That wookiee… he was your friend, right? Or, he worked for you, at least? Now he's dead because of me…"

At this, she looked down as far as she could without cutting herself on the blade, before looking into the man's eyes once more.

"At the very least, I can repay you for that."

The man looked at her appraisingly, almost as if seeing her in a new light. The twi'lek girl fought the urge to fidget as the man seemed to weigh her very soul to see if she was worthy. Another long moment passed, before he grunted, sheathed his sword, and turned to continue walking. This time, when the girl followed, he asked her just one more question.

"What's your name?"

"I'm Mission Vao. What's yours?"

"Vergil."

* * *

 **Right, first off, I don't own Devil May Cry (Capcom does) or Star Wars (Disney does). If I did, I would tell my teams to make this a game and sell it for money instead of writing about it for free online.**

 **Second, I'm coming back and rewriting this, because I wasn't entirely happy with that first chapter. Now that I've got an outline of where I want the Taris Arc to go, I'm gonna put a lot more work into these chapters. I've got uni work to do, however, so updates are probably going to be slow. Expect at least a month between chapters, unless I find myself with a lot of time to spare.**

 **Third, make sure you review. I want to know what you liked, what you didn't, and what you're curious about. It's important to me to be able to improve, and knowledge of what works and what doesn't is the first step with that.**

 **Finally, this is going to be a fused universe. Basically, taking the story of KotOR and splicing in the DMC 'verse. Demons/Devils may or may not exist in some form here, but going too deep into the details would spoil some things, so I won't tell you too much. Just wanted to let you know what to expect for this story. No crazy Force-time-traveling shenanigans, or holes between universes caused by demonic power. Vergil was born and grew up here, as did any other Devil May Cry characters that show up.**

 **That's all I have for today. Future me may have something else to say, but not this me! Bye-o.**


	2. Chapter 2: Javyar's Cantina

_Hmm… Seems rather subdued today._

The rodian bartender looked around at the patrons of the cantina. They're a mixed bag, to be sure, but he knew each and every one of them; if not by name, then by reputation. No two people were exactly the same, especially down here in the Lower City, but everybody here knows the rule of Javyar's Cantina; 'Leave your problems at the door.' Most people followed it, and the ones who didn't found out why.

The cantina's door opened, and in walked a man in a blue coat. Underneath the coat was the pitch-black body armour, and on his waist was his iconic single-edged blade. Nobody knew where the blade came from, or what modifications were on it, but everybody knew it by reputation. Supposedly, it was so sharp; it didn't even need to touch you to cut you. The bartender snorted.

 _I have no doubt the blade is sharp, but there's no way half of those rumours are true._

He sat down at his usual spot – a table in the corner, not dark enough to conceal him, but dark enough to instil a sense of danger in any who may look upon him – and gestured to the bar. No more than a minute passed before a waiter came up to his table.

"Hey, Vergil! What can I get ya?"

"The usual, thank you, Jan,"

Jan smiled as she input the order into her datapad. "One nerf steak, with a side of salad and water, coming right up!"

As she turned to leave, Jan almost bumped into another man. This one, while his coat was also blue, had two heavily-modified Mandalorian blasters on his hips. He also wore dark-tinted goggles, giving his already expressionless face an almost alien look.

"T-t-terribly sorry, Mr. Calo Nord. C-c-can I g-g-get you anything?"

Calo Nord turned the full force of his terrifying gaze upon the poor bartender, and spoke in his terrifying, utterly apathetic voice.

"Go away."

At this, Jan turned and ran, utterly terrified. Vergil spoke up at this point.

"You know, you really shouldn't scare people like that. Bad for business."

Calo sat down across from Vergil, before speaking.

"Good for reputation. You know why I'm here."

"I do, and the answer is still the same. I already have a contract with the Hidden Beks. Come back when I finish this up, and I'll consider it."

"You know this kind of offer isn't going to last that long,"

"True. Unfortunately, when I take a contract, I complete it. Good for reputation."

Calo snorted at this, then stood up and turned to leave, when six Black Vulkars walked up.

"Hey, look guys! It's the big bad bounty hunter, Calo Nord!"

"Wait… isn't that Vergil sitting with him?"

"Why are you sitting with a punk like that?"

Calo turned to the three and spoke once again.

"Go away."

The Vulkars laughed at this, clearly drunk and looking for a fight.

"What's the matter? We just want to talk to the legendary bounty hunter, maybe get a few tips."

The leader of the group turned his head to look at his minions, and noticed who Calo had been sitting with.

"Well, well; lookie here, boys! We found ourselves a prize! The white-haired demon himself! You know Brejik has offered a place at his right hand for whoever kills you? I'm thinking we should collect on that."

Calo speaks up again.

"One."

The leader turns to Calo again and sneers.

"One what? What are you talking about, Nord?"

"Two."

"Two? Counting us? There's six of us, Calo, and only two of you. You stand no chance. Shut up and let us deal with this vermin."

"Three."

At this, the world went white as the flash mine Calo had left on his seat detonated. Nobody could see a thing, but they all heard the six blaster shots ring out, shortly followed by six bodies hitting the floor. When everybody regained their vision, the six Vulkars were dead on the ground, and the blasters in Calo's hands were smoking, their tips glowing yellow-hot.

A moment passed before Vergil spoke up, unruffled as if he hadn't just had a flash mine go off in his face.

"It really isn't the best thing for the life of a blaster if they overheat after three shots each,"

Calo snorted again, holstered his blasters, and slowly walked out of the bar. Nobody accosted him; nobody so much as looked up, all of them seemingly extremely interested in their food. Only once he was out the door, after it had securely closed behind him, did anybody dare to even twitch.

It took a while, but the standard atmosphere of the cantina slowly reasserted itself with Calo gone. Vergil took a deep breath, seemingly lost in his thoughts, when two more people walked up to him.

"Are you Vergil?"

Vergil looked up at the newcomers and gave them a once-over. Both humans, both had brown hair and eyes, though that was where the similarities ended. One had a goatee covering his chin, and was wearing an orange jacket, brown pants, and knee-high black boots; while the other was bare-faced, and was wearing a tan suit of armour, with red and white accents.

 _They carry themselves like soldiers. Graceful, yet powerful._ He turned to look at the bare-faced one – _Clearly the leader_ – and addressed them.

"Depends on who's asking."

"I'm Sal. This is my partner, Carth. Gadon Thek told me you might be looking for a job to fill your time,"

Vergil gestured to the chair across from him before speaking.

"I'm not accepting contracts at the moment, but I might have the time for a side-job. What do you need me for?"

Sal took the seat, adopting a posture that would be comfortable, yet still allow him to defend himself easily, if need be. Carth borrowed a chair from another table and sat on it. He gave Vergil an appraising glance before replying.

"Actually, it's Mission that we're looking for. We need her to get us into the Black Vulkar base for a rescue mission."

Vergil scoffs at this.

"The Black Vulkars are pathetic slime who shouldn't prove a challenge to anyone sufficiently trained, such as yourselves. I'm guessing they've locked down their front entrance if you're looking for someone to help you. Not surprising, considering what's been happening to them recently. Who would we be rescuing?"

Sal raised his eyebrow at this.

"Who said anything about 'we'?"

Vergil locked his icy glare on Sal, only to see him stare back expectantly. There was no fear in those eyes, which was something of a first for Vergil. Nobody outside a select few people was completely unintimidated by him. Even out of those who knew nothing of his abilities, he'd been able to cow anybody he met with just a glare. The only ones who weren't had been Mission, Gadon, and…

"If Gadon truly sent you to me, then you know that Mission and I are practically inseparable when it comes to work. When she goes, I go. When I go, she goes. So, I'll ask again. Who would we be destroying the Black Vulkars to retrieve?"

Sal and Carth locked eyes, a silent conversation playing between the two. Carth turned away, seemingly upset, as Sal spoke again.

"Our target is Bastila Shan, a key member of the Republic war effort. We need to get her off-world before the Sith find her."

"And why is this one woman so important to the Republic?"

Carth spoke up at this, though he hesitated, as though he was seriously reconsidering making this attempt.

"She's a powerful Jedi. Her mastery in Battle Meditation is unmatched, and it's half the reason we're holding as well as we are."

Vergil's gaze hardened at this, as he turned to glare at Sal.

"A Jedi. You want us to help you rescue a Jedi."

Sal, oblivious to Vergil's apparent distaste for the faction, continued on from there.

"Yes. We don't have much in the way of credits, but you're welcome to anything you can get your hands on from the base."

Vergil was silent for a moment before responding.

"If you paid me with every credit from here to Korriban, it wouldn't be nearly enough to get me to help a _Jedi_."

Carth recoiled as if he'd been slapped, and Sal grew very quiet. As Sal locked eyes with the white-haired man – his gaze growing stonier by the second – he saw a glimpse of raw, undiluted hatred behind that cold façade.

 _Did his eyes just flash red for a moment?_

Sal had heard a few stories of a number of Sith with sickly yellow eyes, but they had been just that – stories told to scare children into behaving – and he didn't remember any of them that had red eyes. Nonetheless, he couldn't be too careful.

"Tell me something, Vergil. Are you a Sith?"

Carth jerked at this, his hand going for his blaster, before Vergil's response froze him in his tracks.

"No, and I would thank you not to pull that blaster out, Carth. I dislike spilling blood at the table I'm going to eat at. Our business is concluded, I will not help you, and neither will Mission. Leave me."

With this, Vergil's hand brushed against the hilt of his sword. The implied threat was more than clear.

 _Leave me, or I will kill you like Calo did those minions._

Left with little recourse, Sal and Carth stood up and trudged towards the outside. At the door, Sal turned and gave a Vergil a hard look, as if sizing him up for a later fight. Vergil stared back, face impassive and cold, but with eyes filled with fire and durasteel-clad determination. They stared at each other for a long moment, before Sal turned and walked out without saying a word, following Carth.

 _Well, that was entertaining._

The rodian bartender took his hand off of the scatter blaster tucked away under the bar and went back to cleaning glasses. Five minutes later, Jan returned to the floor, a nerf steak and salad on a tray in one hand, and a pitcher of ice water in the other.

 _Yep. Just another day in Javyar's Cantina._


End file.
